SHATTERED
by Acid Pixie Dust
Summary: One-Shot/Clary can't seem to get over the heartbreak of her and Jace splitting, especially when everyone seems to keep giving her more information on the subject and the actions of her now ex-best friend. Her wires are pulled thin and it'll only take one moment for the ever so carefully controlled band to snap. But in the end will it help fix the damage that's been done?


I scroll through the messages in my mind like I have the past four months. I've already memorized every punctuation point, every capital letter, every time stamp of the message sent.

But just like every day before I can't seem to understand why this had to happen. Every time I think about it my heart races, my stomach twists, and my fists ache to feel bone crack.

During the summer I thought everything was fine, it was perfect actually. My best friend helped me get with my three year crush, she told me how sweet she thought it was and how cool it would be if we became family. I asked her if she was alright with me liking her brother. I told her I wouldn't do anything about it if she didn't approve, and she did. But she didn't have to lie.

Now, three months into the school year, I keep replaying every firework worthy moment we had together. The first hiking trip we went on where we confessed our feelings for one another, and made sure that something long distance wouldn't be an issue. When we sat at the top of the hill on the one lonely bench, staring out at the mountains ahead.

He would tell me that he loved how we didn't have to talk to make things comfortable, that we didn't have to fill the silence, we could just enjoy it together. He told me he'd never felt that way about anyone before, and when I told him how long I've liked him it printed a smile on his face. One that I got so accustomed too, one that would warm my heart whenever I walked up to him.

He would tell me that he loved everything about me. My smile, my body, my height, the fact that I'm one of the only people he knows who tries to conform yet can't seem to do it. That who I am is too unique from everyone else to let me blend in.

"Age doesn't matter." He would say. "It's only two and half years."

He would convince me that, _for my age_ , I'm mature. That he wouldn't judge when I still had responsibilities that he had moved out of. And when the day came for him to leave for his college he promised me we wouldn't separate.

"We'll talk every day." He flash me those big golden eyes, the ones that tugged at the strings of my heart while I played with the strands of his hair. "If we can't call we'll text. As soon as we get free time we'll skype and tell each other everything that happened during our day." But that had been a lie.

He knew things would get worse. It was clear that when his sister stopped talking to me that soon he would too. But I wanted to deny that fact. I wanted to ride out what were going to be the best days of my life. The man I have fallen so deeply for was finally mine and if I had to cage one little thought away to keep it that way then that's how it would be. I'd put a ten foot wall with electric barb wire at the top to keep it from escaping.

But, of course, not everything works that way. Fate decided to put me into a class with his sister. One that was worth a lot of credit but I knew I would end up switching anyway. I tried my best to stay in the class but literature was the opposite of what I wanted to learn.

I tried to push through the first month, things went smoothly, and Jace and I even kept talking regularly. And one night when he couldn't handle the stress anymore he called me crying. He told me he was living in Hell and that things were becoming too much for him. I tried my best to calm him and distract him. We exchanged secrets and weird quirks about ourselves. Even when he told me what he was least proud of about himself I haven't told a soul and I never will. But Fate has funny timing.

Three week after I switched into a composition class and a week after our meaningful conversation he messaged me saying we needed to talk.

He was upset over the fact I kept my class switching to myself, that not that long ago we agreed to not hide anything. So I told him the truth about why I switched. I told him how I didn't understand a thing about Shakespeare and how he was related to a bully, that I couldn't focus when all I was worried about was what she would say next about me. But apparently he didn't want the truth either. He ended it that day, even when I tried my hardest to make things up to him he said no. He wouldn't even explain what I did wrong or why switching from one important class to another was such a bad thing.

Then, a month later when an old friend started talking to me again she told me how his sister always talked badly about me. That she made sure everyone hated me even if she made things up and exaggerated the truth.

But what stopped my heart was when she told me that the break up wasn't Jace's idea. It was Isabelle's. She manipulated him the same way she manipulated her friends into hating me. She also told me that Jace never wanted to split up, that he was sad about the idea but he couldn't put me before family, and that part I understood. But the way he did it still put my heart through a shredder, and now with this new information the tiny parts I've sewn back together have ripped apart. She apologized, "I thought you knew." I would shake my head and smile, pretending that it was alright. That, yes, my soul is fine and I'm not completely lost right now. "I wouldn't have told you if I thought you didn't know. No one should know something like that when they think everything is going good." She was right but it was too late.

Everywhere I turn I can feel people's eyes on me. The same people I called my friend not even half a year ago now look at me with disguised hatred, and it's wearing me thin.

I've talked to Isabelle a few times, nothing more than friendly hello's. But today my mind won't stop wandering. I have to force myself to push the tears away and forget about what everyone has been telling me but her face seems to be popping up an unusual amount of times and it's always twisted into a conceded smile.

I walk into the hall where all performing art and visual art classes are held and see her talking to someone who used to be my go to person. Simon. When we make eye contact she wrinkles her nose slightly and looks away. I clench my fist and chant to myself to calm down, to not take the risk of busting her pretty freckled nose. But when I get closer she walks away from Simon and bumps her shoulder into mine causing me to drop my art supplies and sketch book. I whip around so fast it takes me a minute to focus in on her. "Do you always have to be such a bitch?" I snarl. My fingernails are now digging painfully into my palm.

"Do you always have to be such an idiot?" She stands up straight but somehow she seems shorter than usual.

"I'm tired of you always talking shit about me, Isabelle. I should've said something sooner but for someone who preached about being so grown up, you're acting like a child."

She glares at me and her brown eyes turn a shade darker. It's in this moment that I wished the color of my hair would also be the color of my eyes so she can see how furious I am. "Only children would walk around with a hicky on their neck from their best friends' _brother_."

"I told you it was an accident. I tried to cover it to be respectful, it's not like I walked about flaunting it." I rolled my wrists and felt the tense joints pop. I took a step closer, but I did it slow enough and calculated enough that if no one stopped me I would be able to let my fist go.

"Whether you flaunted it or not I'm glad you two broke up. You were just some slut interested in someone way too good for you. He never should have dated you in the first place, especially now that you've proven what a failure you are. I know your failing more than two classes because your name is on the ineligible list for the field trip. Sooner or later you'll be dropping out, living in the back of your car while you work some crappy night shift at McDonald's to try and save up enough for a motel!" Her voice filled the giant hallway and even rang in the adjoining ones. Her words were a torch and I felt my whole body heating up from them.

My eyesight went white around the edges and my body hummed with adrenaline. I reached out and grabbed a fist full of her ink black hair with my left hand and brought her face close to mine. I snarled just loud enough for her and a few people close by to hear. I could hear the chime of videos being recorded and for once I was happy that fights were thought of as entertainment. Because after I was done her I'd want to go watch the video over again. "I have never and will never, hate someone as much as I hate you, Isabelle Lightwood. In my eighteen years of living, you are the only person who has ever been able to fill me with hate this raw." I feel the rush of angry tears come to my eyes and curse myself for allowing it in a moment like this. "You've broken me in thirty different ways and have caused the one thing that I never expected to break so early on to be completely shattered. If you so much as _think_ my name or one bad thought about me, I will take every broken shard of my heart and piece them back together only long enough to show you how horrible it is to feel this way. Then, when there's nothing left of you and you've lost all hope, I'll forget you even exist so I can let myself heal properly." I give one last good yank on her hair, causing her to flinch. "You may be a heartless bitch who let her ego get to her head, but that doesn't give you a right to hurt other people. I will _never_ , forgive you for what you've done." With one last growl I let my fist and the acid filled tear loose.

She stumbles back holding her nose and I try to ignore the pain in my knuckles. I take one look around the hall to see people gathered, gawking at me like they never in a million years would've expected me to hit someone. But you lose a lot of knowledge about someone when you turn your back on them for the wrong person.

I shake my hand out once before kneeling down to pick up my supplies and when I stand back up I look at Simon. I give him what I hope he sees as a heartbroken, betrayed frown, and shake my head slowly. "You're no better."

I take one swipe at my cheeks to get rid of the water and stalk down the hallway. I don't bother going to class, knowing that a visit from the dean is unavoidable. I walk to the railing that exposed the first floor and set my stuff down to cool off. This area is close enough to where he works that if he needs me, I'll be waiting.

In the meantime maybe I can figure out why none of this seemed to help.


End file.
